Free Monthly #33 Stephen & Delphi (3)
Part of the Community Fiction Series of Short Stories!
Introduction
One of the on and off series I’ve been thinking about and writing down ideas for is what I’ll describe (for now) as “utopian”. Utopian in the sense that the society has “figured out how to remain civil” while still having strife and adversity to keep humanity progressing towards perfection. Take that as you will.
This is a direct continuation of an earlier short story and by clicking here, you can view previous short stories.
Community Fiction | Stephen & Delphi (Community 5)
3: The Alley
“I speak through riddles, Issy. That’s what I do when I can’t express myself.”
“Okay. Okay. Read the damn poem again!”
Stephen exhaled until his entire diaphragm shuddered, and then inhaled deeply. With his best attempt at capturing the poem’s rhythm and soul so his wife may understand what troubled him, he chanted:
I am a dream, unready, unseen.
I am the seam, unraveled, tempting.
I am the moon, an island, away.
I am the sun, a monster, away.
I’m a universe upon itself, yet a speck of the universe itself.
I am, human.
“Please don’t tell me you’re dying, Stephen.”
“What?! No!” Stephen rubbed his eyes in frustration. “No!”
“You’re troubled about something, clearly, and you won’t tell me what it is—or can’t if it’s job related.” Issy said, thinking carefully. “Your decision will determine what happens next, but you’re afraid it’s the wrong one?”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Stephen nodded emphatically. His wife was wonderful at Charades, so she wasn’t terrible at comprehending Stephen’s obscure means of expression when he tried to convey difficult subject matters. He was a border guard, not a wordsmith.
“So you’re struggling with a decision, and it’s related to work?”
“Pretty much.”
“Have you tried speaking with your—”
“Not a chance. This isn’t something I can go to them with.”
“But it’s work related.”
“Correct.”
“Someone you let in. You’ve found something out that might get you in trouble?”
“No. They could be in trouble.”
“And you’re struggling with helping them. Why?”
“I’d have to take work off and it’d be dangerous.” Stephen mumbled in reply.
“Stephen M. Carter! That’s half an excuse!” Issy shouted. “You take the time off and help that person! Call for backup if you need to. I didn’t marry a wannabe. I married someone who’d keep Delphi safe and secure. Why not live up to that standard?”
Stephen considered his response with care. Issy was not pleasant when angry. Why shouldn’t he help Sandi? What was holding him back? He understood the necessity, but worried about injury. Issy thought he signed up to risk life and limb for Delphi, and Stephen never thought about his night job in that way. It was his duty to protect the woman; she asked him to, Issy commanded him to, and he swore an oath to maintain the community’s tranquility. Whatever was bound to happen in the alley would violate that tranquility. He’d have to act.
“You’re right. I’m being selfish. I—I just don’t want to get caught up in syndicate nonsense.”
“This is about the Purple Persians?”
“Indirectly.”
Issy contemplated, and after a minute she said, “I think I understand your hesitation. I still think you should go. If it’s a matter of life and death for someone, it’s a matter you should tip the balance for.”
“I’ll call off then.”
“Thank you, Stephen. I love you. Be safe and come back to me.”
“I love you.” Stephen replied robotically as he searched his contacts for the station’s line to call off.
When evening was well under way, Stephen left home for downtown. Friday’s busy day promised an exceptionally active night. All the weekly wage earners were spending their spoils on their chosen vices.
Stephen found a bench across from the alley Sandi indicated and watched the world pass by while listening to Ivet. Ivet was Stephen’s favorite artist, mixing poetry and music in ways that spoke to Stephen. They were middle-aged, but often spoke in ways that rang of differing ages. One line they’d sound like a teenager, and on the next, like an old man.
The clock tower displayed a digital half past the hour, signaling to Stephen he needed to find a better vantage point to the alley. He crossed the road and conversed with a bearded destitute man sitting in the street. The destitute weren’t common, and they didn’t last long on the streets of Delphi before being removed. It was one of the larger costs the community paid for to keep their streets clean. Stephen heard that a nearby church community, dedicated to helping the penniless find a path forward, received the people. Stephen trusted the enforcers to do the right thing. He had too; he paid part of their salary.
“I wish you the best of luck, sir.”
“You too, man. If you’ve got any money, that’s appreciated too.”
The clock tower chimed the top of the hour. Stephen glanced into the alley. Stephen grabbed a coupon for a free meal at a local eatery. “This is all I’ve got at the moment.”
“That’s fine. Thank you.” The man grabbed the coupon and stood, cracking his back.
“What’s your name?”
“Aaron Bob.”
“Aaron Bob?”
“Just what my parents called me, man.” He said, walking towards the nearest restaurant. Stephen’s raised eyebrows morphed into determination. He turned and stood beside the trashcan and ATM, giving him a slanted view of the alley.
Stephen located a pack of cigarettes he’d procured on the way downtown so he’d have an excuse for loitering. As he lit one, the theater door opened and two musclemen exited. After them, Sandi and Hystas, the leader of the Purple Persians, appeared. Sandi glanced toward the street and must’ve seen Stephen’s half-hidden face as she smiled briefly before turning away, holding Hystas’s arm promiscuously. To Stephen, she was a sensual woman at her finest. Any displeasure with her arrangement remained hidden behind her false façade.
Hystas chuckled as the foursome stood in the alley. Stephen could barely hear his words. “I bet they want to make a deal. Whatcha think?”
“I dunno.” The tallest of the group shrugged.
“You’re the boss, Hystas. I trust your in—” The other man cut off as the butcher shop’s side door opened. Three men exited and looked around. Stephen caught enough of a glimpse to register who Hystas was meeting. A-Colo, an enterprising thug looking to expand criminal operations in the area, was in town. A-Colo’s guards glared at Stephen, forcing him to turn away from the alley’s line of sight.
“You trust your boss?” A-Colo’s voice and personality were that of a chattering type. Stephen chanced a glance over as he ashed his cigarette. A-Colo’s distinctive green hair was all he made out before withdrawing again.
“As he should!” Hystas exclaimed. “Good of you to be on time, A-Colo.”
“My friends call me Colo.”
“I wouldn’t say we’re friends, but two businessmen with some business to settle.” Hystas’s voice soured.
The wind picked up and Stephen couldn’t hear A-Colo’s response. He hazarded another visual of the meeting. Sandi was barely visible.
“What you’re proposing is more a hostile takeover than anything. We don’t take kindly to such action. We sell the drugs and sex in this agora. If you don’t like it, get lost.”
“Don’t be talking to Colo like that, man!” One of A-Colo’s men demanded.
“Easy. Easy.” A-Colo said with a hand on his guard before turning back to Hystas. “Don’t you think I knew that? Your arm candy there was a nice lay and all, but you ain’t be fooling ‘ole Colo. I’m the man!”
“You’re a homeless criminal.”
“Don’t you disrespect me.” A-Colo growled.
“My turf. What’re you going to do about it?”
A-Colo was pacing when Stephen looked as he considered Hystas’s threat. He squared to Hystas, “What am I gonna do? Hmm? How ‘bout this?!”
Stephen shifted, revealing himself as he attempted to see keep A-Colo in view as he darted forward and Hystas let out a cry of pain. Sandi screamed and Hystas’s thugs made to draw weapons. A-Colo’s men were faster. Both thugs fell to the ground as A-Colo’s guards stabbed them in their necks. The one Purple Persian who procured his own blade stabbed his assailant in the arm before collapsing.
Sandi started screaming again, but A-Colo covered her mouth as she struggled to flee. A-Colo’s thugs drug the dead bodies into the butcher shop and A-Colo glanced around for bystanders, making Stephen withdraw hurriedly from view. When Stephen dared look again, the alley was empty.
He rushed forward and saw blood all over the place. Stephen saw a hairpiece that must’ve been Sandi’s and bent to pick it up. It was covered with blood. The shock of events made Stephen’s mind fuzzy for a moment before common sense came to him.
He rushed out of the alley, pocketed the hairpiece to not draw attention, and headed to the nearest enforcer station. The two burly Delphi Certified Enforcers were studying the street.
“You’ve got to help me!”
“What?” the man closer to Stephen said as he surveyed Stephen.
“The alley between that new butcher shop and Castille Delphi!”
“What about it? On with it!” the enforcer commanded. “We’re busy here.”
“A meeting. Deaths.” Stephen blurted. He took a deep breath. “A-Colo is taking out the Purple Persians.”
“What the hell are you talking about? How do you—?”
“I saw them!” Stephen implored. “A woman is with them. She needs help. She’s still alive.”
The other enforcer was glaring at Stephen. “You’re sure this was a meeting of crime bosses going wrong?”
“A-Colo’s green hair gave it away. And the thugs.” Stephen retorted, annoyed they were giving him such a hard time. They completely dismissed the possibility of murders in Delphi until he remembered. “And this!”
Stephen shoved the silver hairpiece into the closer enforcer’s hand. The blood stained Stephen’s hand, and some ended up on his long-sleeved shirt, but he didn’t care. Stephen gazed beseechingly into the eyes of the enforcer. “This is your job, isn’t it? To defend the peace of this community?”
“I’ll call it in.” The other enforcer said as he thrust an evidence bag at his colleague. “Might as well bag that for prints either way.”
A minute passed as the enforcer asked about A-Colo’s and Hystas’s whereabouts. The man turned away as the conversation with his radio unfolded. Stephen stood there, speechless by their inaction. What could he do? What should he do? He wanted the men to do something, but the only ideas that crossed Stephen’s mind would make them act against him and not A-Colo.
The other enforcer returned with a pale, stony expression. “You said Castille Delphi right?”
“Yes!”
“And who are you?”
“I’m Stephen.” With sudden inspiration, Stephen withdrew his badge. “I’m with border security.”
“Castille Delphi side alley. Send back up! We may have a hostage!” The man spoke quickly into his radio. Without waiting for the reply, he dropped the receiver and put his right hand on his holstered firearm. “Lead the way, sir.”
Relieved the enforcers were finally taking action; Stephen gestured and ran toward the alley. When they arrived, someone had cleaned the pooled blood but it the asphalt was still wet and smelled of blood and bleach. The enforcers checked the side door’s handle. They found the side door locked.
“We’ll have to wait for backup. They should be here any moment.”
“I’ll monitor the back. Take the front.”
“What about me?” Stephen interjected. “What can I do?”
“Take this.” The enforcer he had first engaged with handed Stephen a secondary gun hidden on his leg. “My personal carry. Watch this door.”
Stephen’s heart raced as he accepted the gun. The enforcer watched Stephen check the gun for its safety and confirm it was loaded. “Roger.”
The enforcer rushed to the front street, shooed people away, and threw down round enforcement indicators to keep people away from the shop. The flashing red appeared in the back street as well. A grim realization came to Stephen. He’d always wanted to be an enforcer. Presented with the opportunity to participate, he found his stomach was a raging sea of anxiety. Perhaps he wasn’t suited to be an enforcer after all.
TBC in the near future!
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